Remembering Jayden
by Rowena Zahnrei
Summary: After suffering an electrical overload, Data is troubled by dreams about a man named Jayden, and the primitive culture that derides and fears him. Are the unsettling dreams a message or a memory – or possibly both? A Season Seven story looking into labels and the limits they can set, intentionally or otherwise. COMPLETE! Reviews Welcome! :)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: The Next Generation or any of its compelling characters. Please don't sue me or steal my story. Thanks!

NOTE: This story is a result of insomnia, TNG: Thine Own Self, and a note in the Star Trek Companion book indicating the name 'Jayden' was from a Barkon IV fairy tale similar to the Earth story of the Frog Prince. It's not finished, it has just four of, maybe, eight chapters, but it is starting to spark my curiosity, so I'm going to post it here and see what you think so far. I hope you enjoy it! :)

1.

"It came out of nowhere, Captain," the navigator, Ensign Martinez, exclaimed over the blaring alert klaxons, his fingers flying over the console's surface. "There was no way to avoid it!"

"Mr. Data, report," Picard demanded, fighting to maintain his footing despite the violence of the storm that was pummeling his ship.

"It is a spaceborne ionic disturbance, sir. Quite severe, and growing in intensity," the android said from his ops station, enduring the jostling jolts with his customary calm.

"Can we ride it out?" Riker asked, struggling to keep from being tossed from his chair.

"The magnetic interference is making it difficult to determine the size and extent of the storm, Commander," Data said, aiming a slight frown at his console's unsatisfactory readouts. "I estimate we have approximately three minutes before the stresses overwhelm our shields and—"

A blinding electrical bolt hit the ship, leaving the bridge crew dazzled and disoriented. Another immediately followed, then another.

Picard felt an uncomfortable, static tingle crawl over his skin, and saw Riker's shadowy form twitch beside him. He squinted through the crackling electrical arcs snapping through the charged air, the bursts of white light causing his eyes to tear.

Martinez was gripping his chair for dear life, swaying and rocking with the rest of them, but Data seemed unnaturally still, his normally busy hands stiff and unmoving.

Picard tried to move toward his second officer, but found himself thrown back against his command chair. He climbed into it with difficulty, wondering how many minutes had already passed, whether the shields or the storm would give out first…

A horrible, bucking turbulence rattled the ship, the chairs, Picard's teeth—

—and just like that, the space ahead of them was clear and black and dotted with stars.

"The storm… It's gone!" Martinez said, still rather winded from the ordeal. "Dissipating…almost to nothing. It must have been a localized phenomenon, sir. Something about that particular area of space."

Picard released a careful breath, the residual electrical tingle making the hair on his arms and at the back of his neck stand on end. He stood, only to find his uniform clung uncomfortably to his legs and torso.

"Nothing like a case of static cling to prove you've been through an electrical storm," Riker commented, pulling at his own uniform.

"Indeed, Number One," Picard grunted wryly. His first officer's normally neatly brushed hair looked as though he'd rubbed it with a balloon. "But, at least we did make it through. Mr. Data, has there been any damage to the ship's systems?"

The android didn't reply.

Picard and Riker shared a concerned glance and headed toward him, but Data slumped forward and slid from his chair, lying flat and still on the carpet.

"Data!"

Riker was at his side in a moment, gently shaking his shoulder, but the pale android remained unresponsive, his wide, golden eyes staring blankly toward the ceiling.

Picard slapped his combadge.

"Picard to sickbay: medical emergency. Mr. Data is down, most likely a result of the ion storm we just encountered. Inform Commander La Forge: Data requires immediate assistance."

"Understood, Captain," Dr. Crusher's voice responded. "We're on our way."

 _To Be Continued…_

 _Reviews welcome! :)_


	2. Chapter 2

2.

 _Cold stone..._

 _He was lying on his side, on uneven paving stones. The chilly air smelled of the smoke from hearth fires, and the chirp of nighttime insects filled his ears._

 _Slowly, he opened his eyes and sat up, then climbed cautiously to his feet. He knew this place... He was near the center of the town square, by the well, and it was very dark. The only light came from the stars, and the sliver of moon high above the clock tower._

 _"So, you're awake."_

 _He turned his head, squinting in confusion at the man who had spoken._

 _"Have I been asleep? But that cannot be... It seems highly unlikely I would find myself sleeping out here, in the square. Unless..."_

 _He furrowed his brow, stepping closer to the man in the shadows._

 _"Has something happened? Are Garvin and Gia all right?"_

 _The man regarded him, the whites of his eyes glinting in the pale starlight._

 _"What is your name?" the man asked._

 _"I do not know. My friends here call me Jayden," Jayden told him. "Who are you?"_

 _The man snorted a very slight laugh._

 _"Who am I?" he said. "You want the truth?"_

 _"The truth would be appreciated," Jayden said._

 _"All right, then."_

 _The man stepped forward, and Jayden's lips parted._

 _"You...you look like me," he said, his yellow eyes wide. "Only...your skin and eye coloration suggest you are not an ice man, as I am."_

 _"'Ice man'?" the man repeated. "Is that what you think you are?"_

 _"It is what I was told, following the recent accident that robbed me of my memory," Jayden corrected. "I do not know for sure what I am. Do you know?"_

 _The man opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he closed the distance between them and clapped a hand on Jayden's shoulder._

 _"You probably won't understand this," he said, "but this form you see," he gestured to himself, "is likely a reflection of your current, limited frame of reference. I am not a man. I am the dreamscape manifestation of a program designed to seek out and repair system malfunctions and anomalies. You were identifed as one of these anomolies. But, I see now, that is not the case."_

 _Jayden shook his head, and pulled away from the man's touch._

 _"You are correct, I do not understand. I do not understand this at all," Jayden said, his eyes darting around the silent square. "I wish to leave this place. I wish to return to Garvin and Gia. I believe... I seem to recall that... They are in trouble, terrible trouble. I need to-"_

Lt. Commander Data's eyes flicked open and he lurched upright, his pulse throbbing in that disagreeable way he sometimes experienced upon waking from a nightmare. He took a moment to peruse his diagnostics and make a few minor adjustments, then turned his head to blink at his surroundings.

"Data, welcome back!" Geordi said, and smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"I am all right, Geordi," the android told him. "If a bit disoriented. What happened? What am I doing here, in sickbay?"

"A freak ion storm put your systems through a nasty bout of thermal shock," the engineer said. "It took a few hours, but Dr. Crusher and I pulled you through."

Data nodded slightly, his eyes moving back and forth as he reviewed his diagnostic records in light of this new information.

Geordi regarded him, his concern evident in his posture and expression despite the silvery VISOR that covered his eyes.

"Do you remember the storm, Data?"

"I remember being on the bridge when the storm hit," Data said. "There was a very bright flash. After that...I remember nothing until I woke up here. Except..."

"Except what?" Geordi prompted.

"It may be irrelevant," Data said, "but during the time I was…offline…I experienced a rather unusual dream."

Geordi smiled in relief. This was familiar territory, and likely a good sign Data's systems were settling back to normal. After all, it had been a sudden plasma shock in engineering that had triggered Data's dormant dream program to activate, about a year earlier. Since then, Data's newfound 'unconscious mind' had treated him to a range of dream-like scenarios: some imaginitive, some disturbing, but most of them rather endearingly ordinary.

"What was this dream about?" he asked.

"A man… A stranger, who had lost his memory," Data told him, his golden eyes distant. "The setting of the dream seemed very familiar…yet, I am certain I have never encountered that place, or the stranger, before."

"Well, dreams can be like that, Data," Geordi said, starting a tricorder scan on the android. "More real than real. At least, while you're dreaming them. Then you wake up."

"Yes," Data acknowledged musingly. "But, I have a peculiar impression that there is more to this dream than what I saw. Much more. It is as if the details are…locked away…beyond my ability to access them."

He shook his head very slightly, his pale brows knitting over his nose.

"The sensation is most…unsettling."

"That's probably a result of the storm, Data. All that electromagnetic energy dancing around your synapses, wreaking merry havoc with the positron flow... But, if the images bother you, you should talk it over with Counselor Troi," Geordi advised, his main focus on the tricorder's screen.

Data tilted his head slightly.

"Hm," he said, considering. "That is not a bad suggestion. I am again seeing the Counselor regularly - once a week since our encounter with the D'Arsay archive that briefly overtook my systems. I will bring this up at our next counseling session. I would be interested to know if she has any insights to offer."

"Let me know how it goes," his friend said, and snapped the tricorder closed. "Meantime, everything looks fine here. Physically, you're fit as a fiddle and ready to return to duty. I'll just find Dr. Crusher to confirm, and we'll get you discharged right away."

"Thank you, Geordi," Data said, and slid off the biobed. "As always, I appreciate your assistance."

 _To Be Continued..._

 _Thanks so much for your reviews! I hope you liked this chapter. Until next time! :)_


	3. Chapter 3

Long time, no update over here. Sorry! But, here's a little chapter to get this story moving a bit. Thanks so much for your reviews and nudges! :)

3.

As soon as Dr. Crusher released him, Data strode directly from Sickbay, to the turbolift, to his quarters. Walking up to the replicator, he ordered, "Feline Supplement 187."

The replicator hummed, and a small bowl of mucky, meaty cat food materialized in the food slot, along with a strong scent of chicken livers. Data crouched down to set the bowl on the carpet and waited, his lips twitching ever so slightly upward when his orange cat, Spot, jumped down from Data's meticulously customized work station and began daintily lapping up her dinner. Data gently rubbed the cat between the ears, then stood and set about unfolding and making up his sofa bed, aiming to activate his dream program for a few hours before returning to the bridge to oversee the night shift.

A mechanical chirp made him straighten with a lurch. Turning to face the main door, he called out, "Enter!"

Counselor Troi stepped in and smiled to see the android standing there with a half-fluffed pillow in his hands. He quickly put it down.

"Good evening, Counselor," he greeted.

"Hello, Data," Troi said, crouching down to give Spot a quick pat. "I just came by to see how you were doing, after what happened on the bridge today."

"Your concern is appreciated, Counselor," Data told her. "The ion storm subjected my systems to a violent bout of thermal shock, but I am fully recovered. Geordi and Dr. Crusher have both cleared me to resume my duties at zero-hundred hours."

Troi shook her head and stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her blue uniform with her hands.

"You always do that," she said.

Data tilted his head, not following.

"Counselor?"

"I ask how you're doing, and you tell me your _systems_ are operating just fine," she said. "Android or not, you can't always conflate your _physical_ well-being with your _mental_ well-being, Data. The mind isn't that straightforward."

"I…do not understand," Data said, squinting slightly as he struggled to puzzle out her allegation. "If all my systems are functioning normally, is that not an indication that my mental status is similarly fit?"

Deanna sighed and moved toward the edge of the folded-out sofa.

"May I?" she asked.

Data's first inclination was to ask her to specify her meaning, but a quick analysis of her body language, vocal intonations, their past interactions, and the present context helped him realize she was asking permission to sit on the bed.

"Of course, Counselor," he said, and politely pulled a chair over from his round table to join her. Spot, having licked her bowl clean, jumped possessively onto the bed and stalked around its perimeter before settling down near the pillow to continue cleaning her whiskers, paws, and coat. Deanna reached out to stroke the cat as she sat down, then turned to face Data.

"How long has it been, now, since you first activated your dream program, Data?" she asked.

Again, Data checked his initial impulse toward computer-like exactitude, considered the social situation, and answered, "It has been over a year, Counselor. Why do you ask?"

Troi pursed her lips and regarded him.

"With the unconscious comes the irrational and…sometimes…the suppressed," she said in a manner Data found unsatisfactorily cryptic. "I'm just wondering if that shock you suffered on the bridge today hasn't…unlocked something. Something your mind…or, perhaps, your circuitry…has kept buried. Hidden away from your conscious awareness."

Data's head twitched slightly, and he leaned closer, thoroughly perplexed.

"To what…something…might you be referring?" he asked.

Troi's lips stretched in a small smile, and she reached out to pat his knee before rising back to her feet. Data also stood, regarding her with keen, curious eyes.

"If you don't know, I don't want to influence you. Not yet," she said, her smile broadening with affectionate sympathy at his genuinely frustrated look. After all this time working with him, on and off the bridge, she knew his exasperation was real, that she'd be able to recognize and perceive it even if his back were turned, but she couldn't _feel_ the sensation any more than he could…an incongruity that she knew frustrated Data at least as much as it did her.

She touched his arm, and said, "We'll talk more at our appointment. I want to hear all about that dream you had while you were unconscious today. And, if you happen to have another dream tonight, I'll want to hear about that too."

"As you wish, Counselor," Data said courteously, then narrowed his eyes rather worriedly. "Is it your belief that the electrical shock I suffered has caused another hidden program to…activate?"

"Probably not a program," she said. "Perhaps a memory, or a cluster of memories, you haven't previously been able to access."

Data blinked.

"An intriguing thought. What sort of—"

"Data," Troi interrupted, and patted his hand. "We'll talk tomorrow. 0800."

"Tomorrow? But, Counselor," Data said, "our scheduled meeting was not until—"

"I know. I moved it, given what happened today," she said. "You don't have a conflict, do you?"

"No, but..."

"Good," she said, and smiled. "I'll have tea and cinnamon muffins waiting in my office."

"That is very considerate, Counselor, but you know I do not need to eat," Data said.

"You don't need to sleep, either, but I see your bed's made up," Troi countered. "It's an early meeting, Data. And, when you have an early meeting, sometimes a light breakfast is appropriate. Think of it as a chance to practice your social skills."

"Hm." Data gave an acknowledging tilt of his head. "Thank you, Counselor. I will look forward to our talk."

Troi smiled.

"Good night, Data," she said, and headed for the door. "Pleasant dreams."

 _To Be Continued..._

 _References include TNG: Birthright I; Phantasms; Force of Nature. Since this story takes place after "Force of Nature," Spot is a 'she' rather than a 'he.'  
_

 _Reviews welcome! :)_


	4. Chapter 4

4.

"I am an 'Ice Man.'"

He spoke the words without clear comprehension of what they meant, or whether they projected an accurate representation of his heritage and his people...if, indeed, he had any.

After all, it was only on Talur's word that he had even a vague idea of what 'Ice Men' were like and where they supposedly lived...if they did, in fact, exist. Since Talur had also asserted no one from the village had ever encountered an 'Ice Man' before, he rather suspected that the label the forceful town scholar had so quickly hung on him was more a convenient product of imaginative extrapolation than anthropological fact.

Unfortunately, since he had no factual grounding from which to counter her claims, he found himself forced to accept the descriptive appellation at face value.

Garvin had informed him that, though the village did boast a print shop that also sold books, there was no public library and no reliable historical, geographical, or demographic data available apart from the local census, tax, and court records stored in the town hall...and those only went back eight years. The 'Ice Man' was not sure why, but this discovery had startled him, leaving him with the oddly uncomfortable sensation of being adrift, cut off from the secure and the familiar, like a boat without an anchor, at the mercy of the changing tides.

Yet, he realized there was some value to this disappointment, as it provided the 'Ice Man' an insight into his own personality. It seemed that, unlike Talur, he was not comfortable citing opinions as though they were proven truths. He preferred the more solid backing of observable, testable, verifiable data. It was, therefore, only natural that, as morning shifted to afternoon, the 'Ice Man' found the continued lack of any reliable information regarding his identity, his nature, and his current predicament increasingly unsatisfactory. Even…frustrating.

But, with no available research materials, it was a situation, it seemed, he would have to learn to accept. At least, for the time being.

The one encouraging aspect of the 'Ice Man's' otherwise precariously uncertain state was knowing that he did not have to face the prospect of rebuilding his lost identity alone.

Garvin offered him a gentle smile: a gesture that, even more than his offer of hospitality, reinforced the 'Ice Man's' initial impression of the town's magistrate as a genuinely kind and generous man. He found the friendly input…reassuring.

"We'll have to call you something besides 'Ice Man' until your memory returns," Garvin said, moving to sit on the couch beside the nameless stranger. "What was the word on the container?"

"Radioactive," the 'Ice Man' supplied at once, gratified to find his immediate short term memory seemed unimpaired. He had been carrying the black container when he first stumbled into the village that morning: a small, rectangular box partly filled with oddly twisted metal fragments. Unfortunately, their nature, purpose and history were as much a mystery to him as his own.

"Mr. Radioactive?" Garvin suggested.

"I don't like that name," Garvin's daughter spoke up, a young girl with a blonde ponytail named Gia. "Let's call him…Jayden!"

"What do you think of that?" Garvin asked him.

"Jayden," the 'Ice Man' repeated, trying it out. "That is acceptable."

Gia smiled happily, the positive feedback prompting an affinity for his new name to settle in the 'Ice Man's' mind and start to grow.

 _Jayden. I am Jayden_. _But, who was I before…?_

Jayden glanced down at his hands, the skin as pale as sunlight glinting on snow, the strange, singed clothing so different in texture and style from what the people around him wore, and he found himself gripped by the same odd, but powerful, impulse he had felt when he had first arrived in the town square: a _need_ to access information that…just was not there. Instead of memories of a home, a past, a _self_...his searching thoughts met only unsettling blankness...

Well, whoever he had been before, whatever accident had brought him to this place, injured and confused, he was here now, with these people, and they had been kind enough to gift him with a new identity. Until his memory returned, or he learned something more, he would have to accept the role he had been given at face value, and build from there. He was to be Jayden, the Ice Man from the Vellorian Mountains. The mysterious house guest of Garvin and Gia.

The pale-skinned stranger who had lost his memory, but found new friends who were kind enough to share their time, their home...their lives…with him, for as long as he remained a part of their community.

Despite his lingering apprehensions, he had to admit, it was a promising place to begin.

 _To Be Continued..._

 _References include some direct quotes from TNG: Thine Own Self._

 _Coming Up: Some night shift research and then a talk with Troi. What is the story behind Jayden's name? How might an android behave if he didn't know what an android was, or that he didn't have 'emotions'? Please stay tuned! Your comments and reviews are always appreciated! :)_


	5. Chapter 5

Hey, look! This story's still alive! ;) Hope you like this next part! :)

* * *

5.

Data rose from the captain's chair and paced forward, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared at the starscape filling the viewscreen.

"Is there a problem, Commander?" Lt. Grey asked, peering up from the Ops station.

"Problem, Lieutenant?" Data queried.

The young officer looked a little abashed, as if worried she had overstepped her bounds.

"Well, it's just, this is the third time you've come up to the front like this. But, I'm sure it's none of my business, sir, if—"

"No, no, Lieutenant, there is nothing wrong," Data assured her. "Though, your observation is correct. I have been somewhat…restless…this watch."

"Something on your mind, sir?"

"You could say that," he said. "It is a…personal matter."

"Then, I apologize, sir. I shouldn't have pried."

Data regarded her, noting her eyes had lowered and her face had grown flushed – sure signs of embarrassment. He frowned slightly, and placed a hand on the back of her chair, as he had often seen the captain do when he wished to convey his support or approval.

"You did nothing wrong, Lieutenant," he said. "It is important for a bridge officer to maintain awareness of her surroundings, and the people around her. Keep it up."

"Aye, sir," the young woman said, and straightened, her awkwardness fading.

Satisfied, Data headed back to the command chair, then paused and strode up the ramp to the Science Stations.

Curious, he thought, that such a small change in his standard night watch routine would rouse the lieutenant's concern. But, of course, he was the commanding officer. The bridge crew looked to him for cues and, if his behavior deviated a bit now and then, they were bound to notice. Just as he would take note if Captain Picard seemed unusually tense or restive…or Commander Riker.

For a moment, Data wondered if he should have revealed the cause of his disquiet to the young officer. His dreams had been haunted, yet again, by that same stranger… The 'Ice Man' called 'Jayden,' who possessed no memories of his own identity or past. Requesting a human's perspective on the matter – someone impartial, like Lt. Grey – could provide insight he may never manage to reach on his own…

But, no. The bridge was a purely professional environment, and Data had learned such personal questions were more suited to the relaxed atmosphere of Ten Forward.

Still, the mystery this 'Ice Man' presented burned in Data's mind. Could he be an imagined character, created by his 'subconscious' to protect his core 'self' from the effects of neural overload?

Or, was he something more…?

The ensign at Science Two moved aside without a word as Data sat down and danced his fingers over the station's touchpad, running a thorough database search for the names 'Jayden,' 'Gia,' 'Garvin,' and 'Talur,' and cross referencing each with various keywords, such as 'preindustrial,' 'early print culture,' and 'Vellorian Mountains.'

Scrolling information fairly flew across the screen, the last three names turning up no directly relevant results.

But the first…

Three reports appeared on the display: one, a general Starfleet cultural survey on the peoples of Barkon IV. The name 'Jayden' was not referenced, but the text did note that the indigenous people on the western coast of the central continent referred to the local mountain range as the 'Vellorian' Mountains.

The other two reports were mission logs, entered respectively by Commander Riker and Dr. Crusher shortly after Data's own recent mission to Barkon IV. Oddly, both required a command authorization code...and Level Six security clearance...

Data frowned, and accessed the files.

 _To Be Continued..._

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 _Reviews are always welcome! :)  
_


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Four cinnamon muffins sat, untouched, on a plate beside the counselor's steaming tea pot. The small muffins warmed her office with their spicy scent, but seemed to have no such effect on her stern-faced guest.

"I wish to know why my authorization codes have been blocked," Data stated, his normally pleasantly animated voice as flat and cold as his eyes. "Why is the information recorded in these particular logs being withheld from me?"

Deanna sighed and leaned forward to pour fresh tea into her cooling cup.

"The truth is, Data," she said, after taking a slow, calming sip. "Those safeguards were put in place for your protection."

"My protection?" Data repeated. "I do not understand."

Troi regarded him, her dark eyes boring deeply into his.

"What do you remember about your mission to Barkon IV, Data?" she asked him.

"Only what I was told, Counselor," he said. "You were there when I awoke. You know I have no memory of my time on Barkon IV."

"What is the last thing you remember before the memory gap?"

"Only the initial dematerialization sequence here, aboard the _Enterprise_ ," he said. "I was standing on the transporter pad with my equipment, and Ensign Cohen was operating the controls. He pressed sequence Alpha—"

"All right, Data, I get the idea," Deanna said. "What do you remember next?"

"Opening my eyes in sickbay," he told her. "Dr. Crusher informed me that I had endured a severe electromagnetic shock while downloading information from the damaged probe. The shock apparently wiped my short term memory files."

"What were you wearing when you woke up in sickbay?"

"My Starfleet uniform, Counselor," Data said, regarding her curiously. "Why?"

Deanna pursed her lips, then stood and strode over to her desk. She picked up a small stack of neatly folded brown, cream, and reddish-brown garments and carried it back to him.

"Do you recognize these, Data?" she asked.

Data took the clothes and inspected them one by one, his expression growing oddly unsettled.

"Where did you get these, Counselor?" he asked.

"Why don't you tell me?" she prompted.

Data shook his head slightly, appearing strangely helpless as he ran his fingers over the hand-spun threads, the woven fabrics…

"I do not know," he whispered. "But, these clothes… They are strongly reminiscent of garments I saw individuals wearing in my recent dreams."

"The dreams about your stranger? The man who lost his memory?"

"That is correct," Data said, lifting the tunic and frowning at a rough, singed hole that pierced through both the front and back of the fabric.

"Data," Troi said gently. "Would it surprise you to learn that this is what you were wearing when we beamed you up from Barkon IV, not your Starfleet uniform?"

"It would, Counselor," Data said, and set the damaged tunic and the other clothes down on the table beside the muffins. "I can see the dimensions correspond with my frame, and there is evidence several of these garments have been strategically tailored to fit those specifications. Yet, I can honestly say I cannot recall ever having seen or worn these clothes before."

Deanna nodded. It was clear he was telling the truth. In fact, if she didn't know better, she'd say the android looked thoroughly spooked.

"You know the Prime Directive better than I do, Data, and the consequences for knowingly and willfully breaking it," she said. "As long as we could prove you had no memory of events on Barkon IV, Starfleet was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and forego any official hearing on the matter. But, their condition was that all records and logs regarding the mission and your recovery remained sealed."

Data straightened.

"Sealed? Why? What do they think I did?"

Deanna tightened her lips.

"The fact is, you were found buried, damaged and offline, several meters beneath the central square of a Barkonian village. After beaming you back to the ship and repairing the worst of the damage, you were briefly reactivated. Once it was clear you knew nothing, the captain, Dr. Crusher, and I… Well, Data, we decided it would be best for you - for your career - if the mystery of what had happened to you down there just…stayed a mystery."

Data stared, his golden eyes wide with something very like disbelief.

"Did the captain order my memories of Barkon IV wiped?" he demanded.

"Data, it wasn't like that," Deanna assured him. "That probe did damage you very badly. When we recovered you, you had no memory of anything that had happened following the power surge. But, you were wearing these clothes. And it was clear that, although you couldn't remember any details, you did have some significant contact with the Barkonians of that village."

Data's golden eyes flicked to the side, his brow furrowing deeply over his nose.

"Significant contact…" He glanced at her, his expression almost pensive. "Then, it is your belief that I violated the Prime Directive while on Barkon IV? That I am responsible for some manner of cultural contamination substantial enough to affect the development of—"

"Data, I don't know," she broke in. "And neither do you. And, so far, neither does Starfleet. That's the point I'm trying to make."

She sighed, and set her cup down on its saucer.

"Right now, all anyone knows for sure about the incident is that, somehow, one small community of Barkonians was exposed to radiation from fragments of the crashed probe you were sent to recover," she said. "Whether the fragments landed there as the probe fell through the atmosphere, or were carried there from the crash site in the mountains is pure speculation. And, so is the extent of your involvement."

"Judging from the native costume you say I was wearing when I initially awoke in sickbay, I appear to have been quite deeply involved," Data said quietly.

"That's just it, Data," Deanna said, fixing the android with a curious expression he couldn't quite read. "I don't think _you_ were."

Data's head twitched.

"I do not understand."

Deanna took a muffin, sat back in her chair, and crossed one leg over the other.

"I told you yesterday I wanted to hear all about these dreams you've been having," she said conversationally, picking cinnamon crumbs off the muffin's top and popping them in her mouth. "Did you have another one last night?"

"I did, Counselor, but—"

"Tell me about it," she said. "Were _you_ in this dream, Data?"

"No," he said, and frowned. "Not exactly."

"Anyone you know? Your friends from the _Enterprise_?"

"No," he said. "The dream was again about Jayden."

"Jayden?"

"That is the name the stranger chose to adopt, since he could not recall his own," Data told her. "It was given to him by a young girl. Gia."

An intrigued sparkle lit the counselor's eyes, and she fought to hide a little smile.

"Please, have a muffin," she said, gesturing to the plate. "If the tea is too cold, I can fetch us some more from the replicator."

"Counselor," Data said, "if you know something about these dreams, their meaning or significance, I would appreciate—"

"A theory?" she said, and quirked a dark eyebrow. "Data, are you familiar with the symptoms of retrograde amnesia?"

"Of course," he said. "It is a rather common plot device in many works of serialized fiction. Often, a primary character is hit on the head and, consequentially, loses all memory of his or her identity and purpose until receiving a second, similar blow which then restores the lost memories."

"Yes, well, I'm sure you know that in reality retrograde amnesia is extremely rare," she said. "And it's not caused, or cured, by a bump on the head. With most biological humanoids, the condition results from very serious organic brain trauma, most commonly caused by a tumor or a stroke. The affected individual can no longer remember who they are or what they were, but they can form new memories. They also remain painfully aware of their cognitive defect. They know they have lost something. Something vital. Yet, they cannot grasp what it was."

She regarded him closely.

"Does any of this sound familiar to you, Data? From your dreams, perhaps?"

Data squinted his eyes slightly, working to follow her meaning.

"Are you suggesting, Counselor, that I may have experienced a condition similar to retrograde amnesia while on Barkon IV?"

"I think I'm asking you if it's possible, Data," she said. "Do you believe the damage the probe's overload caused your positronic brain could have provoked symptoms comparable to a human stroke?"

Data's golden eyes shot back and forth as he processed the question. After a moment he stilled, and looked up at her.

"Yes," he said, his voice soft with startled wonder. "I do."

 _To Be Continued..._

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 _Until next time! Your opinions, comments, and reviews are always welcome! :)  
_


	7. Chapter 7

7.

"His memories are returning, Captain," Troi reported as Picard took his hot Earl Grey from the corner replicator and sat back behind his desk. "But, they seem to be doing so _through_ his dream program. Data still can't consciously access any information about the time he spent on Barkon IV."

"Then, what do you recommend, Counselor," Picard asked. "Starfleet's position on this matter is quite clear. Any direct violation of the Prime Directive by a Starfleet officer must be investigated. If Mr. Data did, in fact, willfully and purposefully enter that village, no matter how benign his intent, his future career in Starfleet may well be in serious question."

Troi pursed her lips and stared down at the polished desk.

"I think the only way to find out for certain what happened down there is to confront the one man who was present."

"But, you just said that Data can't _consciously_ recall the Barkon IV mission."

"I'm not talking about Data, sir," Troi said.

Picard frowned.

"Then, I don't understand."

Troi straightened, her expression sharp and serious.

"Captain, I have a theory about what happened to Data during that mission. A theory that has, so far, been borne out by Commander La Forge's scans of Data's positronic brain since his return from Barkon IV, and by my own recent interviews with Commander Data."

"Please, explain," Picard invited, sitting back in his chair with his cup of steaming tea.

"We know that when Data attempted to download information from the crashed probe, he received a powerful electromagnetic shock," she said. "But, we didn't realize that shock had caused his brain permanent physical damage."

"Permanent?" Picard repeated, his eyes narrowed with concern as he set his tea back down and leaned forward. "How serious is this, Counselor?"

"Data's fine, now," she assured him quickly. "Every diagnostic shows his functions are well within their standard operating parameters. But, that wasn't the case on Barkon IV," she said. "While there, Data was damaged, and that damage was serious enough to impair his functions and, yes, even alter his behavior. I would go so far as to say that the physical damage sustained by his positronic brain is comparable to the type of organic injury a human brain would receive from a severe stroke."

"A stroke? Is that even possible?"

"Data believes it is. And, so does Commander La Forge," Troi said grimly, and sighed. "Captain, you know I'm not an expert in cybernetics, but as Geordi explained it to me, following the initial shock, Data's diagnostic and self-repair programs were able to handle the worst of the damage, rerouting vital functions and patching severed links. But, to ensure the stability of these new links, some circuitry was left dormant."

"What exactly does that mean in this case?" Picard demanded.

"I believe that Commander Data is suffering from an android-version of retrograde amnesia," Troi told him. "A condition resulting from the severe injury he sustained on Barkon IV."

"Amnesia?" Picard frowned. "Then, are you suggesting Data has no memory of the Barkon IV mission because those memories were never formed?"

"Not exactly," Troi said, and Picard's frown deepened. "I believe Data did form memories while on Barkon IV. But, he did so in an altered mental state. A state in which he could not remember his own identity or purpose. Captain," she said, "if I'm right about this, when Data entered that Barkonian village, he did so, not as Lt. Commander Data of the Federation starship _Enterprise_ , but as a stranger – to the villagers, and to himself. A stranger the villagers named 'Jayden'."

Picard's eyebrows lifted as the implications hit.

"Jayden," he repeated. "Wasn't that the name in Dr. Crusher and Commander Riker's reports? The name the Barkonian girl pointed out to them on the memorial in the village square?"

"Yes, sir," Troi said. "In fact, just this morning, Data told me that a young girl named Gia gave the name 'Jayden' to the man in his recurring dreams. And, I can assure you, Captain, Data has not seen either of those reports."

"How interesting..." Picard mused. "Then, those dreams Data has been having since recovering from the ion storm… Could they be—?"

"It's my opinion that those dreams are really salvaged memories," Troi confirmed, "cut off from Data's conscious awareness by damaged and re-routed neural links."

"And the overload from the recent ion storm jolted these dormant memories back to life, as it were?"

"Geordi thinks it's possible, sir," Troi said. "But, because of the physical damage caused by that probe, Data can only access those memories while in an altered mental state similar to the one he was in when the memories formed. In other words—"

"Through his dream program," Picard finished, and shook his head. "This is all most intriguing, Counselor, as Data might say. But, if we're to convince Starfleet Command that Data truly was not responsible for the apparently deliberate introduction of advanced knowledge into the Barkonian culture, we're going to need more than theories and dreams."

"I know, sir," Troi said. "Which is why I propose we consult the only real witness to what happened on Barkon IV."

"Jayden." Picard frowned thoughtfully. "We've learned from our experience with those interphasic parasites that it is possible to link Data's dream program to the holodeck, so others can 'see' what he 'sees' in his unconscious state. But, I'm still not certain an 'interview' with this Jayden character would be enough to stave off an official inquest. Whether they can be passed off as dreams or not, these newly recovered memories do indicate Data's direct involvement with the Barkonians."

"Jayden is not merely a made-up character, Captain," Troi said. "For all intents and purposes, Data _was_ Jayden for as long as he remained in the altered mental state caused by his 'stroke'. Jayden's thoughts, actions, motivations and memories therefore derived solely from Jayden - from his limited experience and frame of reference. They were not derived from _Data_ 's sense of identity as a Federation citizen, or his lifetime in Starfleet."

Picard shifted in his chair.

"Counselor, you speak of this 'Jayden' as if he were his own person. A personality separate and apart from Data's own."

"I'm not sure I would go that far, sir," Deanna said. "In most cases of retrograde amnesia, even when an individual can no longer remember his past identity, the core 'essence' of what made that person who he was can still be recognized by friends and family members who knew him before the injury, and even by former classmates, teachers, and work acquaintances who'd had only limited contact with him. In that sense, the Jayden personality can be interpreted as a version of Data who has been disconnected from all the layers of experience that have shaped his life so far. He is who Data would be if he did not know he was Data. If he'd never served on a starship, or gone through the academy, or even been told that he is an android."

"A _tabula rasa_ ," Picard said musingly. "A blank slate. With no knowledge of the Federation…"

"Or Federation technology," Deanna said, shooting him a significant look.

Picard nodded.

"Very well," he said. "Contact Commander La Forge. If Data agrees to this, I want both him and the holodeck ready to host an interview with this Jayden by 1500 hours."

"Aye, sir," the counselor acknowledged.

Taking Picard's nod for a dismissal, she left the ready room to start carrying out the captain's orders.

 _To Be Continued…_

* * *

 _Thanks so much for your very kind and encouraging review! It's great to know you've been enjoying this story! Next time, Data's friends enter his dreams. There are a lot of questions they, and Data, still need to confront, and not just about Barkon IV. Stay tuned! :D_

 _References (besides "Thine Own Self") include TNG: Phantasms._


	8. Chapter 8

_Evil cluster migraines have been conspiring to kill me, keeping me from playing with my stories for days and days and days, causing an awful traffic-jam back up of overlapping scenes and ideas and notions... But, I'm kinda starting to feel better now. Still can't look at the stupid screen without yellow glasses, but I have a new chapter! Actually, it's what was supposed to be the first part of a longer, penultimate chapter, but brain traffic's still at a crawl... All that honking...ow... But at least the ideas can start moving into their right lanes again! :) Next time: The story behind Jayden's name. Then the conclusion and, perhaps, an epilogue! Stay Tuned! :)_

* * *

8.

Data was already in position when Picard strode through the holodeck doors, sitting on a metal chair near the wall console. Geordi stood beside him, busily completing the hook-up between the android's positronic brain and the holodeck computer.

The captain had lost count of how many times Data had assured them that such seemingly invasive procedures caused him no discomfort, but he had to swallow a grimace just the same. Even after all these years…or, perhaps, because of them… Seeing those open access panels at the side and back of the android's head, the complex circuitry and tiny diagnostic lights that were usually hidden under his scalp and hair...

Picard found it all deeply unsettling. And, not because of the sharp reminder that, under the swept-back hair and convincingly humanoid features, his officer was a cybernetic construct of metals and plastics. He wanted to believe he would feel the same discomfort upon seeing any of his officers – his friends – in such an exposed, even vulnerable state.

"We're almost ready here, Captain," Geordi reported distractedly. "Just need to run a quick check to make sure the new connections are functioning…"

"Carry on, Mr. La Forge," Picard said and moved in closer, until he could meet Data's eyes. He was a little troubled to find the android's normally composed expression seemed noticeably blank, perhaps even a touch resigned.

"Mr. Data?" he prompted. "Before we begin, I want to be certain that you are entirely agreeable to this, and that you are aware that anything we see here, today, will be kept in the strictest confidence."

"I understand, Captain," Data said flatly, his golden eyes staring straight ahead. "This interrogation is to remain confidential unless it reveals direct evidence of deliberate wrongdoing. In which case, said evidence must immediately be turned over to Starfleet and Federation officials."

"Which isn't going to happen," Geordi said, "because you didn't do anything wrong."

Data turned his wired-up head just enough to glance at his friend.

"You cannot know that, Geordi," he said.

"I can, because I know you," the engineer retorted.

"But Geordi," Data said, "if the counselor's suppositions are correct, I was not 'me' during the Barkon IV mission. I was someone else. An individual named Jayden."

"That's not the way I heard it," Geordi said, and frowned, leaving the console to look his friend in the eye. "Look, I know you've been finding this whole thing a bit…disconcerting…Data. Learning your brain's had these memories stored all along… Memories you never even knew you had. But, it sounded to me like the counselor was saying the essence of who you are would still be recognizable to your friends even if you couldn't remember your past in Starfleet. That makes this 'Jayden' a part of you, and you wouldn't bring harm to some innocent village. Not on purpose, anyway."

Data shook his head, just slightly, his yellow eyes seeming oddly pinched.

"I wish I could be so certain, Geordi," he said. "But the physical evidence seems to suggest otherwise. The singed and torn clothing I was wearing when I was recovered from the planet, coupled with the severe damage deliberately inflicted upon my face and torso, indicate my direct involvement in some manner of violent altercation that resulted in my deactivation. Such evidence begs the question: if I am innocent of cultural contamination, as you claim, what could have provoked so brutal a re—"

The heavy doors slid open. Counselor Troi entered the holodeck, slightly out of breath, and Data lowered his eyes to his folded hands.

"Hello Captain, Geordi, Data," she said, pushing a few stray strands of hair back into place as she offered the gathered officers a smile. "My last appointment ran slightly overtime. I hope I'm not late."

"Not at all, Counselor," the captain assured her.

"We're all set here," Geordi said. "Data?"

"I am ready, Geordi," the android said.

"You're sure about this, Data," Picard said somberly. "If you feel pressured in any way…"

"I feel no such pressure, Captain," Data said. "But, Geordi is right. I do find this continued doubt and speculation…most disquieting. I wish to know for certain what occurred – what I did and did not do – and I am grateful that you three have volunteered to act as objective observers. Whatever this session may reveal, please know that I am prepared to accept the consequences."

Picard, Troi, and Geordi looked quite grim at that, but Geordi reached out to give the android's shoulder a supportive squeeze.

"Then, whenever you're ready, Mr. Data," Picard said.

"Activating dream program," Data stated, and closed his eyes. "Now."

* * *

 _To Be Continued..._

 _References include - TNG: A Fistful of Datas; Phantasms; Inheritance; Thine Own Self._

 _Your comments really help keep my spirits up. Thanks so much for reading my stories! :D_


	9. Chapter 9

_Hi again! Thanks so much for your wonderfully encouraging reviews! The last chapter was pretty short, so this one here is extra long. I hope you enjoy it! :)  
_

* * *

9.

Pale moonlight filtered through the shutters, dancing across the wooden ceiling of the little upstairs sewing room Garvin, Talur and Gia had kindly fixed up as a guest room.

Jayden fluffed the pillow again and pulled the hand-woven blanket up to his chin, turning his eyes to the shifting patterns of shadow and light. Outside, the night insects chirped and whirred, weaving a soft, background hum he hoped might finally lull him to sleep…

Nothing.

He shifted his position on the narrow bed, his mind tracking the passing minutes as if his head contained its own miniature clock tower. He knew very well that it was late, that the rest of the household had fallen asleep, that – even though he didn't feel tired – he should be sleeping as well…

But, his mind was too busy to let dreams take hold. Every time he closed his eyes, his confusion and concerns seemed to rise to the surface, playing and replaying the events of the day as if to check for errors. Errors in judgment, in speech and behavior…

Errors that threatened to keep him apart…mark him as 'different'…even more than his odd-colored eyes and skin.

The memories were as detailed as they were exact: Skoran's angry scowl, his rounded face streaked with soot from his smithy…Garvin's startled fear…the wary expressions of the gathered townspeople as they whispered among themselves, whispered about him…

Jayden could recall every word, every motion, every shadow and smell – everything: from the lichens on the paving stones to the ambient temperature and direction of the wind. Yet, when he tried to reach back…to access anything that may have occurred before that morning…before he began his journey from the mountains…

Garvin had assured him he'd done nothing wrong. He'd explained the townspeople just hadn't expected a man of Jayden's build to be able to lift a heavy anvil on his own, and with so little effort. Jayden could understand that. He could even sympathize, as he'd told Garvin.

"My only thought was to help," he'd said. "I heard the wooden support structure crack and saw the anvil falling toward the journeyman metalworker. I did not know that I could move so quickly, or that I was capable of lifting the anvil alone, until it was done."

He could tell Garvin had believed him and, at dinner that night, Talur had tried to explain the unsettling incident away in her usual forceful manner, claiming his amazing strength was likely a trait that all Ice Men shared, that his people probably needed it to survive in the harsh wilds of the Vellorian Mountains. Garvin and Gia had seemed to accept that.

But Jayden couldn't be satisfied with hypothetical musings and overextended analogies. He had seen the suspicion clouding the blacksmith's expression, the open terror in the journeyman's eyes as he leaned over him, even before he'd lifted the anvil, and he had to wonder…

Was it fear that had sent him stumbling into this town, dirty, injured, and alone?

Could a man like him…a man so different and so strange…truly hope to find a place here? Or, would he be forced to move on, traveling from town to town, village to village, his prospects defined solely by his odd appearance, his lost past…the mistrustful suspicions of those around him…

Those like Skoran...

"Jayden?"

Jayden's eyes shot open, his sluggish pulse quickened, and he realized he'd been just at the point of slipping into a dream.

"Jayden…are you awake?"

"Gia?"

Jayden sat up to see Garvin's young daughter silhouetted in the doorframe to his room.

"Gia, it is late. You should be asleep."

"I can't sleep," she said. "My mind just keeps thinking, and thinking… But, if you were sleeping, I don't want to bother you…"

"Gia, I assure you, your concerns are no bother," he said. "I, too, was finding it difficult to fall asleep."

"You were?"

"Yes," he said. "Intrusive thoughts have been troubling my mind as well. Would it help you to talk for a while?"

"Well… Maybe."

The girl sighed, and raised her eyes, the whites highlighted by the moonlight.

"This used to be my mother's workroom," she said and started walking forward, gently running her fingertips over the long-dormant spinning wheel and loom; the prickly pincushions and overstuffed baskets of threads and fibers she, Talur, and her father had stacked against the wall while preparing the room for Jayden. "She used to make fine cloth, and tapestries to sell at the market. Images of colored thread that always told a story."

She turned to face him.

"Do you know any stories, Jayden?"

Jayden felt the familiar blankness encroaching at the edges of his memory, and he shook his head.

"I am sorry," he told her. "If I did, I am afraid that I can no longer remember them."

Gia nodded, just slightly.

"Mother used to say our stories help define us," she said. "That it was our duty to remember them, and to tell them, and to pass them down to our children so our past would never be lost to time."

"Speaking as a man who has no past that he is aware of," Jayden said, "I must say I agree with her. It is a difficult thing, not knowing who you are, or where you came from."

"Talur says you're an Ice Man."

"Talur can only speculate," Jayden said. "But even if she is correct, a simple label cannot define an entire culture. Without my memory, I cannot know what it _means_ to be an Ice Man. I do not know what Ice Men value, or the customs and practices they pass down to their children. I do not know the foods they eat, or the festivals they share at special times. I do not know their story."

Gia nodded slowly.

"I didn't think of it like that," she said. "But…if you're not an Ice Man, what are you?"

"I do not know that either," Jayden said.

"That has to be pretty scary," Gia said.

Jayden tilted his head, considering.

"Indeed," he mused. "And, not only for me, but for the townspeople as well."

"What do you mean?"

"I am an unknown," Jayden said, glancing down at his moon-pale hands. "Something entirely unfamiliar, even to myself. It is little wonder, then, that my presence here seems to make the townspeople so...uncomfortable."

"I don't know about that," Gia said. "Strangers come through our town all the time. Merchants and travelers and fishermen and things."

"Yes," Jayden acknowledged. "But, when a man from a foreign land comes to your town, I would assume the townspeople largely know what to expect from him. They may not have met the individual before, but they would be familiar with his country of origin, his customs, his way of speaking; at least, in general terms. But a man like me…a man with no country, no culture, no past… There are no preconceptions to guide them. Give me a label, however, and my uncertain story is suddenly defined. I am an Ice Man from the mountains. And, once that label is in place, any odd traits or behaviors I may exhibit—"

"Like incredible strength?" Gia said.

"Like incredible strength," he agreed, "can be described as 'within the norm' for my 'type' of person. 'Jayden has exhibited unusual strength?' they might say. 'Well, unusual for us, perhaps, but Jayden is an Ice Man, from the mountains. Surely such strength is not unusual for them, whoever they are.'"

Gia squinted her eyes.

"Then, when someone is different, giving that person a label can help stop other people from being afraid of them? Because, the label makes the person's differences seem normal?"

"In a sense," Jayden allowed. "Many people find such conventionalities reassuring. But, there is a danger," he warned. "By attempting to categorize - or, stereotype - people according to their differences, labels can foster divisions, feeding into a competitive sense of 'us' and 'them.' When taken to an extreme, such divisions can too easily devolve into conflict. The label then becomes an invective, a slur. A tool to further exclusion, rather than acceptance."

He frowned a little, his thoughts turning toward Skoran and the mocking way he always emphasized the term 'Ice Man'. Thinking back on their interactions, Jayden could not recall the blacksmith once using his name.

Gia looked thoughtful.

"Do I have a label?" she asked.

"Several, I am certain," Jayden said.

"Give me an example," she said.

"There is your name, for one," he said. "If I were to call for 'Gia,' you would surely react."

"Just like you would react if I called for 'Jayden,'" she teased.

"Correct," he said. "Secondly, there is your current stage of physical development. You are a child. As a child, your social position and accepted behavioral boundaries are quite different than they would be were you an adult, would you not agree?"

"Well, adults don't have to go to lessons," Gia said. "They go to work instead. And they don't play like children do. They only scold and complain. What's another label, Jayden?"

"Gender can be as much a defining label as age," he said. "The social roles of males and females often differ, as do their manner of dress and means of socialization. You have probably observed that, in this town, such differentiations tend to begin in earliest childhood and seem to continue throughout one's life."

Gia smirked.

"Yes. Talur is always scolding me for not behaving like a proper young lady. 'Young ladies do not slurp their soup, Gia,'" she mimicked. "'And they certainly do not race through the streets like a wild ipako!'"

She giggled, but stopped when he didn't join in.

"Jayden," she said, "how come you never seem to laugh? Or smile? I mean really smile, not just sort of bend your lips."

"I…" He hesitated, rather startled to realize that her observation was correct. "I do not know."

"Do you think, maybe, it's because properly behaved Ice Men do not smile?" she teased.

"Not at all," he said. "But, a smile is meant to convey happiness, is it not?"

"And, you don't feel happy?"

"I…do not know what I feel Gia," Jayden admitted. "In fact...I sometimes doubt if I can feel much more than…mild anxiety."

Gia regarded him for a moment, then moved closer to sit on a cushioned stool beside his bed.

"Do you know what I think?" she asked.

"What do you think, Gia?"

"I think you're feeling sad right now because you can't remember your past, or your people," she said. "I think you're probably feeling so sad, that the sadness dulls everything else. That's how I felt when I lost my mother, and I know it's how I'd feel if I couldn't remember my family and friends."

"Or, whether I have a family to remember?" Jayden said.

Gia shrugged.

"If I do have a family," Jayden said, "they must be very worried by now. Worse…they may believe that I am dead. Apart from my journey from the mountains, I have no idea how long I have been traveling, or where I have been."

Gia smiled, and chuckled a little.

"You find this amusing?"

"No," Gia assured him. "It's just, you keep reminding me of a story my mother used to tell."

"Indeed?"

Gia nodded.

"Yes. It's about a man who lost everything he was because of a terrible curse. He had to wander the world all alone for years and years."

"What was the name of this man?" Jayden asked.

"His name was Prince Jayden," Gia said, and smiled.

Jayden's eyebrows rose.

" _Prince_ Jayden?" he repeated. "Then, the name you chose for me derives from a fairy tale?"

"You're not mad, are you?"

"On the contrary," Jayden said, straightening his posture. "I am quite intrigued. Would you be willing to tell me this story, Gia?"

She averted her eyes, her folded hands twitching in her lap.

"I can't tell it as well as Mother used to," she said quietly. "Talur wrote it down once. She wrote down most of her stories, just the way that Mother used to say them. But I...don't really remember all the words. And, it's pretty long…"

"Then, perhaps, it would be better to wait until morning—"

"No," Gia said quickly. "No, I'm not ready to go to sleep. I want to tell you the story, Jayden. Then, when your memory comes back, you can go home and tell it to your children. And, they'll pass it on to their children, and I'll pass it on to mine and, that way, we'll always remember each other. Forever."

"That is a very pleasant thought, Gia," he said. "Thank you."

Gia lowered her eyes, but couldn't hide her bashful smile.

"This story takes place a long, long time ago," she told him. "Jayden was the son of a king who ruled a prosperous kingdom by the sea. He was very handsome and very kind. He'd just come of age to marry and his parents wanted him to find a bride. There was a girl that Jayden loved, and he believed she loved him too. But, another girl, a jealous girl, wanted him to marry her instead. She went to a witch who lived in a rocky cave and asked her to put a spell on Jayden: a spell that would make him see it was _she_ who really loved him. But, the jealous girl's plan backfired."

"What happened?" Jayden asked curiously.

"The witch's spell turned Jayden into a hideous forest lizard!" Gia said. "In order to turn him back into a man, the jealous girl had to prove her love by kissing the ugly little lizard on the lips. This, she could not bring herself to do, because, you see, it wasn't really Jayden she loved. It was only his parents' wealth."

"Ah," Jayden said, nodding his understanding. "But, if the jealous girl could not break the spell, what became of Jayden?"

"Jayden was very miserable being a lizard," Gia said. "He didn't like insects, and everyone he met was cruel to him because he was so ugly. 'Crawl back to the forest, you warty monster,' they'd cry, and he'd go."

"He must have been very lonely," Jayden said.

"He was," Gia said. "He wandered the kingdom, along the forest and up and down the shore and there, in a rocky cave, he met the witch who had cursed him. The witch recognized her work, and told Jayden what the jealous girl had done. When he realized the jealous girl had abandoned him to his fate, he began to despair. But, the witch told him the spell could still be broken if he could find a woman who loved him so much that her kiss on his lips would be a true expression of that love."

"Did he ever find this woman?" Jayden asked.

"Wait and see," she said. "First, he tried asking the girl he'd originally wanted to marry, but shortly after Jayden disappeared, she had fallen in love with another man. She did kiss the ugly lizard, but she did so out of guilt and sympathy, not true love, and so the spell remained intact."

"How unfortunate," Jayden said, his brow furrowed.

"And, it gets worse," Gia told him. "Heartbroken, the lizard wandered the world until, finally, he collapsed from misery and exhaustion. A mean little boy found him and put him in his pocket and the ugly little lizard was certain that this would be his end."

"But, it could not be," Jayden said, his golden eyes wide. "Such an ending would be most unsatisfactory."

Gia smiled.

"Don't worry," she said. "That night, the boy's governess caught him poking at the little lizard and scolded his cruelty. She took the lizard from the boy and nursed it back to health. She soon discovered that the lizard could talk, and the two became fast friends. She told him she had run away from her home years ago. She confessed how lonely she was, and how horrid the little boy could be. She told him how she dreamed of escaping that place, of finding a home of her own where she could be loved for who she truly was. The ugly lizard told her much of his story as well, but left out the part about the curse, and the fact he was really a wealthy prince."

"Why would he do that?" Jayden asked curiously.

Gia shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess, by that time, he'd sort of given up on ever being turned into a man again. He was happy just to be her friend, even if he was a forest lizard."

Jayden frowned thoughtfully, but nodded.

"Please, go on," he said.

"Well, the governess did all she could to keep the talking lizard a secret, but the little boy soon gave them away," Gia said. "The little boy's parents dismissed the governess and forced the talking lizard into a cage, intending to put him on display for all to see."

Jayden tilted his head.

"That is terrible. Did the lizard and the governess ever see each other again?"

"The next night!" Gia said, and Jayden straightened in satisfaction. "The governess had kept her key and she snuck back into the house when everyone was asleep. She found her ugly little lizard half-dead in the cage, and her heart began to break for fear she might lose her dearest friend forever. She took the lizard from the cage and cradled him between her hands, but when he seemed too weak to move, she brought him to her lips and kissed him."

"Did this kiss work?" Jayden asked.

Gia laughed at his concerned expression.

"Of course!" she said. "It was a kiss of love and genuine concern, and it broke the spell at once. Jayden and the governess ran from the house hand in hand, and soon they had confessed everything. Jayden told her of the curse, and she told him why she'd run away. See, the governess was actually a princess, and her parents had been trying to force her to marry a man she didn't love in order to add his lands to theirs. But, now they'd freed each other, Jayden and the princess could live happily ever after, and that's exactly what they did."

"That is a wonderful story," Jayden said sincerely. "Thank you for sharing it with me. You have given me a new appreciation for my name, and the meaning behind it."

Gia beamed.

"I can tell you more stories later, if you like," she said. "Tomorrow, maybe? After lessons?"

"I would like that," Jayden said. "I only wish that I could remember similar stories from my people that I could share with you."

"That's all right," she said, and covered a yawn. "Jayden?"

"Yes, Gia?"

She took in a breath and held it for a moment. Then, she asked, very quietly: "Do you think my father is very ill? He seemed so tired at dinner."

"I cannot say without knowing the cause of his apparent exhaustion," Jayden said. "But, it seems unlikely, Gia. Odds are, he will feel much better after a night's rest. As will you."

Gia nodded, and stood up.

"Good night, Jayden."

"Good night, Gia. Sleep well."

"You too," she said, and left the room to head back down the stairs.

Jayden watched her go, listening carefully until he heard her close her bedroom door. Only then did he lie down and close his eyes, a faint, fond smile creasing his face.

* * *

"Well," Picard said, stepping out from where he and the others had been watching, unnoticed, among the shadows. "We've now seen this 'Jayden' interact with a number of Barkonians in the public marketplace and in this private home. Judging from these observations, I have to say, he seems to me to be thoroughly acculturated, and his loss of memory appears quite genuine. I see no direct evidence of deliberate contamination of any kind."

"I cannot agree, Captain," Data said quietly.

"Data," Geordi started, but Troi held up a hand.

"What is troubling you, Data?" she asked.

"Gia mentioned her father had been feeling unusually tired," Data said. "And, in the marketplace, just before the anvil fell, we all saw Garvin attempting to sell a number of metal fragments to the blacksmith, Skoran. If those fragments were from the damaged probe—"

"Wait – Data, are you saying that _Garvin_ could be the source of the outbreak of radiation sickness in that town?" Geordi asked.

"I am not saying that at all, Geordi," Data said quietly. "If you recall, Garvin was acting on Jayden's behalf. It is more likely that the fragments entered the town with him."

" _Merde_ ," Picard muttered, and took in a slow breath. "This latest…scene…has demonstrated to my satisfaction that Jayden possessed no conscious knowledge of Starfleet, the Federation, or his android nature," he said. "But, Data is right. The question of these metal fragments must be explained, as well as the origin and extent of this radiation outbreak, before Starfleet will agree to let the matter rest."

"Data," Troi said gently, as if speaking to a hypnotized patient. "This is your dream. You are in control. Try to remember now… Show us what happened to Jayden during the outbreak of radiation sickness."

The room around them began to ripple and change, shifting from Jayden's moonlit bedroom to a cozy living room. Jayden was working busily at a large, wooden table at the far edge of the room, surrounded by open books, meticulously neat handwritten notes, and what looked like a disturbingly anachronistic, hand-constructed microscope and chemistry set.

"Hmm," Geordi grunted, grimly pressing his lips together. "Stone knives and bear skins, Data?"

"Let's not jump to any conclusions," Picard said, aware that the program was set so that this dream image of Jayden would take no notice of them, but speaking softly just the same. "There's a chance this may not be as bad as it appears."

"I hope you're right, sir," Geordi said, turning his head toward the creaking sound of footsteps in the corridor. "Because I think someone's coming."

 _To Be Continued…_

* * *

 _Next Time: Will Jayden, and Data, be vindicated, or will uncovering the truth behind the radiation outbreak force Data to face charges from Starfleet? Stay Tuned! :)  
_

 _References include TNG: Thine Own Self; TOS: The City on the Edge of Forever; the TNG novel Metamorphosis; and the Star Trek Companion book._

 _Next in line for an update: Skin Deep. Coming Soon: Fresh new updates for Croaked; Alternative Data; Sands of Fate; A Different Kind of Ace; Sinister Motives; and The Man Behind The Grin. Happy (almost) Halloween, and thanks again for reading my story! :)_


	10. Chapter 10

10.

Cold stone…

He was lying on his side, on uneven paving stones. The chilly air smelled of the smoke from hearth fires, the chirp of nighttime insects filled his ears...

And, there was another sound. Footsteps on the stone, moving closer…

Jayden opened his eyes and sat straight up.

Three strangers stood in the square, staring down at him. Two men and one woman. They were dressed strangely, in clothes similar in style and material to the singed outfit he had been wearing when he first stumbled into the village. Like Jayden, they lacked the forehead markings of the Barkonians. And one of the men, whose skin was nearly as dark as Jayden's was pale, wore a curved strip of metal across his eyes.

At the sight of the metallic device, Jayden brought a hand to his damaged face…his fingers trailing gingerly over exposed metal parts and tiny blinking lights.

The dark man moved toward him but the second man - his features more a match for the Barkonians save for his smooth head - held him back, his voice soft but firm as he said, "Not yet."

"But Captain, he can see us."

"Just give him a moment, Geordi," the woman said, and Jayden cautiously climbed to his feet, brushing specks of dirt, straw, and ash from his clothing.

Regarding them curiously, he said, "Hello."

"Hello," they returned, and he cocked his head, his golden eyes running over their brightly colored clothing before fixing on Geordi's strange eye-band.

"Are you…like me?" he asked. "Do you know who I am?"

Geordi looked to the captain, who glanced over to the dark haired woman.

"Counselor?" he prompted.

The woman smiled at Jayden, and stepped closer.

"We are like you, in many ways. But, there are important differences," she said, her voice, like the bald captain's, colored by a slight, alien inflection.

Jayden tilted his head slightly, realizing for the first time that these people were not speaking the same language as the Barkonians he knew…and neither was he. From the start, he had been addressing these people in their own, strange tongue. But—

"How is it that I can speak your language?" he asked, his golden eyes rather wide.

The woman smiled again, but all she said was, "What is your name?"

"Jayden," he said. "That is the name I was given."

"My name is Deanna," she told him. "Deanna Troi. Beside me are Geordi La Forge and Jean-Luc Picard. Do any of us seem familiar to you?"

Jayden wrinkled his forehead, regarding each of the strangers in turn.

"No…" he said. "No, I do not know any of you. But, if you are like me…"

He closed his eyes and seemed to swallow, the expression on the undamaged side of his face tightening as he traced the ragged edges of his torn skin, the metallic circle where his left ear had been…

"Please," he said. "Can you tell me… _What am I?_ Why…" He blinked, and swallowed again. "Why can I not remember who I was, or where I am from? Do I have any family awaiting news of my condition?"

The three strangers shared a long, solemn glance. Then, the dark man with the metal eye-band reached out a gentle hand.

"Come on Da— I mean, Jayden," he said, leading him to sit on a nearby stoop. The other two sat facing them on a low, decorative wall beside a small flowerbed. "Let's talk for a while. Do you mind if we ask you some questions?"

"Not at all, Geordi," Jayden said, and the man gave him a small smile. "But, I would be most gratified if you would agree to provide me with some honest answers in return."

"That seems fair enough," the captain said, the dim light only intensifying the piercing stare he cast at him.

Jayden frowned slightly, looking to each of the strangers in turn.

"You do know me, do you not?" he queried. "That is, you know the man I used to be, before my accident."

"What can you tell us about that accident?" the captain asked, steepling his fingers below his nose.

"I…" Jayden blinked, and lowered his eyes. "I do not remember being in an accident," he admitted. "It was a presumption made by the people I met here, to explain my peculiar memory loss and the state of my clothing and appearance when I first arrived."

The captain nodded, his gaze never wavering.

"I can't help noticing," he said, "your injuries… They seem quite severe. Were they a result of this supposed accident?"

"No," Jayden said quietly, his hand raising again as if to hide the little red, yellow and green lights blinking softly through his exposed circuitry. "They are not."

"Can you tell us what happened?" Deanna asked gently. "How did you come to be where we found you, lying outside in the open beside the town well?"

Jayden lowered his head, his hand still shielding his damaged face.

"It was not their fault," he said quietly. "Not entirely."

"Whose fault, Jayden?" Deanna prompted.

"Skoran and the others…" Jayden slowly raised his eyes. "They were frightened, and so they lashed out against what they believed to be the cause of their distress. I tried to explain, but was unable to convince them of my findings."

Picard leaned forward.

"Why did you come to this village?" he asked.

"I do not know," Jayden said. "I walked here, from the mountains. I had no reason, only…"

He blinked, and furrowed his brow.

"I suppose it is a natural instinct, when one is injured, to seek out civilization. Would you not agree?"

The captain grunted slightly, his folded hands shielding his mouth, and expression, from view.

"Did you have anything with you when you arrived?" he asked.

"A black box was in my hand," Jayden told him. "I did not realize I was holding it until Garvin – the first man I encountered here – pointed it out to me. The box contained a number of small metal fragments, each quite malleable and slightly warm to the touch, and there was strange lettering on the front that read 'Radioactive.'"

He blinked and straightened.

"The writing – it was in your language," he realized. "The language we are now speaking! Please, can you tell me what it means? Is it a warning?"

Troi regarded him closely.

"You don't know the meaning of the word printed on the container you were carrying?"

"I do not but, given recent events, I must theorize that it has something to do with the dangerous nature of the metal fragments it contained," Jayden said. "Is this a correct supposition?"

Geordi glanced at the captain, then Troi before answering, "It is."

Jayden nodded just slightly, his expression turning thoughtful.

"Then, in a sense, Skoran was correct. I was the source of the plague. I brought the dangerous metal to this settlement, and it is because of me that the fragments came to circulate throughout the village population."

He glanced up at them.

"Is that why you have come?" he asked. "Am I to be held responsible for the metal-sickness?"

Troi looked like she was about to respond, but Picard spoke first.

"I'm curious," he said. "What was in the bucket we found beside the well?"

"It was a compound I made to counteract the effects of the particles that emanate from the metal fragments," Jayden said. "I put it in the well water to ensure the curative would reach everyone who has been adversely affected by the metal."

"What are these 'particles'?" Picard pressed. "Can you explain?"

Jayden shifted his position uncomfortably, and Geordi shared a slightly worried look with Troi.

"I cannot say precisely," Jayden admitted. "But, my experiments with the metal fragments have revealed them to be an energy source. When placed before fabric that has been coated with the liquid used in lamps, the fabric sparkles with dancing patterns of light. These shifting patterns indicate the metal fragments emit invisible particles. It is my theory that these unseen particles are largely responsible for the sickness that has spread so rapidly through the village."

"How did you develop the compound to counteract these particles?" Picard asked.

"The idea first occurred to me while Garvin's friend Talur was observing the lesions that had broken out on his hands," he said. "She used a magnifying lens. I speculated that, if I could design a similar device capable of reaching a higher level of magnification, I would be better able to see the specific effects of the lesions on the structure of the skin itself. Garvin's daughter, Gia, helped me gather the materials I required to construct this device, and the village printer was kind enough to sell me several medical and scientific texts he had bought in the city. From these books, I learned about the layers of the skin, the benefits of various topical ointments and tonics derived from local plants, the chemical reactions that produce these beneficial effects, and the theory of elemental particles from which all things are made. Armed with this general information, I returned to Garvin's specific case, trusting that, if I could develop a compound capable of neutralizing the particles emanating from the metal, I could block them from exerting their negative effects inside the body in rather the same manner the black container blocked them from casting light patterns on the treated cloth. It took a great deal of trial and error, but I believe I have succeeded. Garvin and Gia both showed improvement shortly after ingesting the compound and I believe that, despite some dilution, the treated well water will aid the other villagers in their recovery."

Picard nodded and raised his head, his expression much lighter than before.

"Thank you, Jayden," he said. "Your explanation has been most helpful."

"I am pleased you found it so," Jayden said. "But, you have yet to answer my questions. Who are you? Why have you come here? Was it to find me?"

"It was," Troi said. "As for who we are…"

"We're your friends," Geordi said. "You're one of us."

"Can you tell me what I am?" he asked. "Why I appear so different? Both inside, and out…"

"You appear different because you are different," Troi said. "You are someone very special. And, if you would like to come with us, we would be very glad to have you back."

"What was my name?" Jayden asked. "My real name? Who was I before I lost my memory?"

Picard smiled very slightly, and rose to his feet.

"Your name is Data," he said, watching Jayden's puzzled expression deepen as he spoke. "You are a Lt. Commander in Starfleet, second officer of the _Enterprise_ , and a citizen of the United Federation of Planets. Does any of this mean anything to you?"

"I am afraid not," he said. "But then, the people here believed me to be an Ice Man from the Vellorian Mountains, and that explanation did not register either. It would appear that I have much to learn. Or, rather, to re-learn."

He blinked up at them.

"Where is the United Federation of Planets? Is it very far from here?"

"Not so far," Troi said, keeping her eyes fixed on his as Geordi slowly stretched a hand behind Jayden's head. "To reach it, all you need to do is..."

"Wake up," Geordi said, rolling up the cable he'd detached.

Data blinked his eyes and stood up, his chair vanishing as he stared around at his friends and the empty holodeck grid with an oddly bleary, somewhat bewildered expression.

"What has happened?" he asked, and frowned. "Something is different…"

"What is it, Data?" Troi asked, moving to his side. "Are you all right?"

Data tilted his head with a sharp, bird-like movement, his golden eyes seeming to focus inward.

"I am accessing," he said, and looked at her, his eyebrows raised in something very near surprise. "It would seem the block has gone, Counselor. I am able to recall Jayden's memories of Barkon IV, as well as my own."

"Data, that's incredible," she said. "I was hoping this would happen, but I didn't expect to actually _see_ it…"

"What do you mean?" Geordi asked, closing up the wall panel and moving to join them.

"Do you remember, Geordi," she said, "Data's image seemed to disappear after Skoran and his friends attacked Jayden with the shovel, tearing away his skin? I had assumed at the time that Data had entered a deeper level of sleep, but that wasn't it."

"What was it then, Counselor?" Picard asked.

"Reintegration," Troi said excitedly. "Don't you see? In his dream state, Data ceased to be an observer and became the participant, assimilating Jayden's experiences as his own. That is why his image vanished. Data's dream state had essentially 'synced' with the altered mental state that had produced the 'Jayden' persona in the first place, allowing Data and Jayden to 'merge.' In effect they, were one and the same for as long as Data remained 'asleep.'"

"And, now that he's awake," Geordi realized, "what he experienced in his dream state should carry over into his conscious memory."

"It is rather like recalling a dream," Data said, rather thoughtfully. "The full record is present, Counselor, but, there is a peculiar aspect I find difficult to describe."

"What do you mean?" Troi asked curiously.

Data seemed to struggle for the right words, his pale brows knitting in concentration.

"It is…as though the memories did not originate from me but, rather, were transferred to my mind from another source," he said. "Not unlike the memory scans the Omicron Theta colonists programmed into my positronic brain before the Crystalline Entity attacked."

"Then, you still feel as if your memories of Barkon IV belong to someone else," Troi mused.

"In a sense, they do," Picard said. "The individual we spoke with in the village square may have looked like Data, but he was not the same officer we know. He was…"

"He was someone very special," Troi said, offering Data a warm smile.

"And, definitely one of us," Geordi said, clapping the android on the shoulder. "So, are we done here?"

"I think we've learned all we need to know," Picard said. "Thank you, Mr. Data. If you wish us to keep what we saw confidential—"

"There is no need, sir," Data said. "I see no harm in remembering Jayden. In fact, his experiences not only provide valuable insight into the Barkonian culture, they also prove that neither Jayden nor I is guilty of breaking the Prime Directive. After all, Jayden believed himself to be a native Barkonian. His innovations were not influenced by knowledge of advanced technology. Rather, he studied information the Barkonians themselves had printed, and extrapolated using available materials."

"That's right," Geordi said. "Jayden was thinking like a contemporary, not with hindsight – as a Galileo or Leonardo, not a Starfleet officer. That should get Data off the hook with Starfleet Command."

"I'll do what I can to see that it does," Picard said rather grimly, and the small group exited the holodeck, the heavy doors sliding closed behind them.

 _To Be Concluded...  
_

* * *

 _References Include - TNG: Thine Own Self; Contagion._

Next Time: The Epilogue! Thanks so much for reading, and for all your encouraging comments. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you think! :D


	11. Epilogue

11\. Epilogue

Data regarded Troi through the steam from the mug of hot chocolate she held between her hands.

"Why did you not tell Jayden the truth?" he asked.

"Truth?" Troi repeated.

"That he was an android," Data said flatly. "He asked you what he was. You could have explained his mechanical nature and origins. Yet, you did not. Why?"

Troi glanced at him, and set her mug down on the little office coffee table between them.

"We told Jayden what he most desired to know," she said. "That he belonged somewhere, and that the people he knew cared about him. Would any of that have changed if we had said he was a machine? Do you honestly think he would have understood?"

Data frowned but, when he didn't answer, Troi went on.

"I admit, I only had a brief glimpse of the Barkonians and their culture, and that was through your dream program," she said. "But from what I saw and heard, I imagine the notion of an 'android' would seem quite a foreign concept to them."

Data's golden eyes slid to the side.

"Perhaps…" he said, and his frown deepend. "It is true that there is very little context within the Barkonian culture to support the notion of an artificial life form. While Earth's ancient fairy tales and legends are replete with stories of inanimate statues, puppets, toys, and machines that come to life through various means, Jayden encountered no such tales on Barkon IV. This cultural difference may explain why, even following the attack that damaged his face, the thought that he may have been an engineered construct did not occur to him. Or, indeed, to anyone around him. Quite the contrary – the Barkonians presumed he was a 'creature.' And, Jayden believed them."

Data's eyes lowered to his lap.

Troi frowned slightly, and leaned a little closer.

"Does it bother you, Data," she asked, "to know that Jayden did not perceive himself as a machine?"

Data's forehead creased, and his pale brows knit over his nose.

"I find it…curious," he said.

Troi nodded.

"It must have been an interesting experience," she said. "Recalling Jayden's experience of living, at least for a brief while, as a biological being in a community of biological beings."

"But, still not as one of them," Data countered. "Despite the kindness displayed by Garvin, Gia and Talur, Jayden remained…set apart…from the larger community. An outsider, defined more by his differences than any perceived similarities."

"I see," she said musingly, carefully tracking his expression. "What was it Jayden told Gia about labels?"

"That such conventionalities can be reassuring," he said, "but the attempt to categorize individuals according to broadly generalized characteristics can too easily foster the exclusion, rather than acceptance, of those who are considered 'different.'"

"Jayden was considered different because of his appearance," Troi said. "He was a stranger from a strange place, possessed of strange abilities and mannerisms. He would have been treated the same way by those villagers whether he was a 'machine' or a 'creature.' Would you agree?"

Data lowered his brows.

"Yes…" he said, "But—"

"And, what about you, Data?" she asked. "We both know how long you've dreamed of being human. Of shedding those early labels you worry had kept you apart, socially isolated from the larger group. Labels like 'artificial.' 'Android.' 'Machine.' 'Construct.'"

Data's expression seemed to tighten, and he clasped his twitching fingers in his lap.

"I must admit," he said, "remembering Jayden as he was on Barkon IV has prompted me to recall my own activation and the difficulties I encountered in my attempts to assimilate into human society. One of the first things I was told by the away team that discovered me on Omicron Theta was that I was not a 'living' being, as they were, but a machine. A manmade construct designed to think, talk, and look like a man, without actually being one."

"You've come a long way since then," Troi said. "You've faced a lot of prejudice, and broken a lot of barriers to get where you are."

"Yet, those labels remain…along with the negative connotations they inspire," Data said. "They are what allowed men like Admiral Haftel and Commander Maddox to challenge my rights time and again on the premise that if a machine is to be considered 'alive' it is only an 'artificial' life."

"Is that what you believe, Data?"

Data's head twitched, and he lowered his eyes.

"The knowledge that I am 'artificial' has been with me since my activation," he said. "It has shaped my identity, influenced how I have approached, and have been approached by, others."

"Then, why does reviewing your memories of Jayden's experiences seem to make you so…unsettled?" she asked. "Is it because he had the chance to operate without those labels, and yet he still faced misunderstandings and persecution from people he didn't know?"

Data's expression tightened again, and he released a long, slow breath.

"It is…strange…to realize…" he said. "My android nature may not be as…obvious…to others as I have always presumed. Before my assignment to the _Enterprise,_ I accepted the labels I was given as self-imposed behavioral parameters. Like the humans around me, I too found it…reassuring…to believe that, despite all my differences, I could so easily be placed into a clearly defined slot. And yet…"

He pursed his lips and shook his head.

"I have since learned that is not the case," he said. "For anyone. And, after observing what happened to Jayden, I am forced to wonder…"

He blinked and looked up at her, his golden eyes tight.

"Do you believe it is possible that, through this practice of adopting imposed labels as self-defining parameters, I have been distancing _myself_ from other beings? Have I, perhaps, been holding myself back, questioning and denying my own impressions should they happen diverge from what I presumed others might expect from…an android?"

Troi offered him no cues, consciously working to keep her expression entirely neutral.

"What do you think, Data?" she asked. "Would you say that's a fair description of your thoughts and behavior?"

"I would hope not," Data said. "But, how can I be certain?"

Troi pinched her lips together, her eyes falling on the reflective glass table as she caught herself wishing, once again, that her empathic senses could pick up on whatever was going on in the positronic mind of the man before her.

"All right, Data," she said. "Let's try a little confidence test. Look down at your reflection, there in the table. Tell me what you see."

"I see…myself?" Data queried, blinking up at her.

"Don't look to me for clues," she said. "This is about you. Now, try again."

"I see…a Starfleet Officer," he said, and Troi circled her hand in a rolling motion, waiting for more. "An android? A man in uniform?"

"How about a friend?" she suggested, and the android blinked. "A musician? A painter? What about a mentor – a role model and a leader?"

Troi sighed through her nose, and regarded the android closely.

"Maybe you're right," she said. "Perhaps you do have a tendency to limit your behavior to conform to a perceived, outside expectation."

"Is that…bad?" he asked.

"Not entirely," she said. "And it's definitely something we can work on. But, Data, I want you to consider this."

She leaned forward and placed her hand over his.

"The next time you find yourself distracted by other people's expectations, try to remember that labels that once seemed fixed are often changed when new information comes in. That's why the best thinking is usually done outside the box."

Data's head twitched, and he straightened.

"Hm," he said. "I had not thought of it that way. Thank you, Counselor."

Troi smiled and sat back.

"Have you heard back from Starfleet Command yet?"

"The official decision is due to be released tomorrow morning," he told her. "But, Captain Picard assures me there is no cause for concern. Admiral Rider informed him that the decision will be in my favor, with only one dissent. I am, as Geordi put it, quite off the hook."

"Well, that's a relief," Troi said, and glanced down at her calendar. "So, shall we meet again this time next week?"

"That would be acceptable," the android said, and stood. "Thank you again. I will take your insights into consideration."

"Good luck, Data," she said, and he strode out of her office, into the busy corridor.

Yet, as he walked though the ship's carpeted hallway, his mind kept going over what they'd discussed; the memories and lingering concerns their talk had dredged up.

All those labels…the generalized descriptions Starfleet, and Data, had used to define him for so long…

 _Android. Automaton. Man-made Construct. Artificial life form._

They were true enough, but did they tell the whole story? Did they offer a full depiction of the individual he saw when he looked in the mirror?

Might the labels he had lived by actually leave out more than they offered? By operating without those parameters, could Jayden represent a more accurate reflection of his inner self?

What was he, really?

 _Machine. Innovator. Officer. Friend..._

Leaving the question hanging, Data straightened his posture and stepped into the turbolift that would take him to the bridge, and his next adventure.

The End

* * *

 _References Include - TNG: Thine Own Self; Peak Performance; The Measure of a Man; The Offspring; Tin Man._

 _Thanks so much for reading! This story may be over now, but your comments will always be welcome. Please Review! :D  
_


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